Harry's Birthday Party
by Min Daae
Summary: Harry's seventeenth birthday party turns to chaos when an assortment of... characters... appears on his doorstep. As Harry struggles to maintain order, discover such hilarity as the possibility of RonNeville romance and a troop of fangirls. R&R, please.
1. Birthday Party Begins

**Author's Note**: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters in this story. I do own the story though. I shall spork firmly anyone that says otherwise. Love to Mrs. Holmes for showing me the wonders of socks.-grin-

Harry finished the final flourish on his journal and grinned as he heard the ringing of a doorbell. He adjusted his glasses and his tie before hurrying downstairs to greet his guests, humming the theme from Mission Impossible as he went.

It was his seventeenth birthday Sunday, and he had invited various friends and acquaintances to his house for a party. The Dursleys were hiding in the spare bedroom – under the spare bed. The doorbell rang again as he adjusted his tie some more. And again. And again. And –

"Shut up and wait one second, will you?" Harry growled at the door before throwing it open. He grinned again as the familiar faces of Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Hagrid beamed up – or in Hagrid's case, down – at him. "Come on, then," he said cheerfully. As they stepped over the door's threshold, he hesitated and stared at the other figure starting to tramp inside and threw his arms across the doorway. "Hold it," he said. "What are you doing here?"

Draco Malfoy squinted at Harry. He seemed to have adopted a pair of reading glasses since Harry had last seen him, and unfortunately they were tortoiseshell patterned. "I didn't invite you," Harry snarled.

"I got an invitation?" said Draco hopefully, holding up a piece of scented stationary. "It says…"

"Hold it," said Harry. "That's Hermione's invitation. What's all this about?"

Hermione seemed to be trying to slink into the living room unnoticed. "Well…um…I did…sorta…invite him…I mean, he's really nice, once you get to know him, Harry! He's my white knight! My savior! My heart! My love! My-"

"Hermione, please! Get off the table!" moaned Harry, his head in his hands. "But…he's…I…archenemy…argh. I thought you liked Ron?" he said hopefully.

"Oh, I gave up on him." Hermione said as she climbed reluctantly off the island. "I mean...well, you'll see, I'm sure. Come on, Draco!" She grabbed his arm and dragged him off to the living room. Harry winced and started to turn toward his other guests, muttering. "I think Hermione's lost her mind," he said to no one in particular. "Or at least her good –" He was cut off as the doorbell rang. LOUDLY.

"Oh, gosh darn it all! Who's that?" Harry grumbled as he stumped over to the door. He threw open the door and was nearly run over in a stampede of…

"Professor McGonagall?"

It certainly did seem to be, but Harry scratched his head at the differences. Whatever she had done to her face, it made her look like a dysfunctional…teenager. And her hair was cut short and looked as though she had been electrocuted – that is, it was sticking out in all of the possible directions that hair can stick out into. She had abandoned her normal dress and was wearing an extremely short scrap of cloth and….a bikini top. Her nose was perky. And she was riding a motorcycle.

Harry peeled himself off the floor and stared some more. "Professor…your hair… nose… motorcycle… socks…?"

McGonagall gave him a brief, slightly frightened look, then revved her motorcycle motor. "My name's Minerva! I've decided to get in touch with my inner child! And you sent me an invitation!"

"I did?" Harry asked, slightly befuddled.

"Yes! And I've brought my new boyfriend! Meet Scabbers!"

"Hey, dude," said Scabbers from the basket in the front of the motorcycle. Harry could say nothing. "Break out the champagne!" yelled Scabbers. "Come on, baby, let's have some fun!" Moments later, they were gone, leaving only the motorcycle, which Harry stared at in blank astonishment. However, only moments later the doorbell rang again, and Harry tromped over to the door, scowling ferociously. "Hello?" he said before opening the door.

Seven dwarves were standing on the doorstep, glancing nervously around them. "Let us in, then," growled the lead dwarf. "Come on. Come on."

"Who are you? Do you have an invitation?" asked Harry wearily.

"Ah…yes. Here. I'm Thorin, and this is Balin, Bombur, Fili and Kili, and-"

"Wait. I know you! You're from The Hobbit!" Harry exclaimed.

Thorin gave him a slightly unnerved look. "Um…yes. Of course. Now can we please come inside?"

Harry gave up. "All right, all right. But don't ruin the house."

The dwarves tromped inside and Harry shut the door, but moments later another knock came. "Oh, shut up!" growled Harry, but he opened the door again, ready to shout at the crowd. However, he found himself gaping at a strange crowd on his doorstep. A ruggedly unwashed man, a very pretty elf, a very chunkily braided newt, and four very short men...?

"What are you…"

"Quickly, inside! All of you!" said the ruggedly unwashed man. "We musn't let them catch us! Thank you, good ol' chap," he said as he passed, clapping him firmly on the shoulder before disappearing into the house. "Never fear. The rest are coming along soon enough. It'll only be a moment."

"The rest?" Harry moaned, and sat down hard on the ground. He barely had time to think before the door crashed open yet again and he was scattered with shards of shattered door. "What do you think you're doing?" he shouted, attempting to get up, but nine black horses plunged through the doorway, rearing, each ridden by a black rider. They stopped and looked around nervously.

"All right. Dismount!" said one of them. Harry saw Hermione and Draco peering in from the living room. Draco appeared to be shirtless, and was still wearing his tortoiseshell glasses. Harry winced again. Fourteen more heads poked through, too, and then disappeared, looking relieved.

"It wasn't them," Harry heard the ruggedly unwashed man say to the others.

"What are you doing here!" he snarled, clearing the last of the wreckage of the door away from him. "You don't have an invitation – you can't just come charging in here – breaking doors – nearly killed me – my socks are ruined –"

One of the Black Riders gave him a nervous look and edged away. "There's a good chap. It's all right. You won't even know we're here. I swear. We'll just…go on upstairs…"

"I always knew these humans were insane," whispered another one of them. The one he had whispered to nodded and edged a little away from Harry. Harry scowled more deeply.

"Who's insane?" he muttered. "This party is insane."

"Ooooh!" said one of the horses suddenly. "wOOt! A pinball machine!"

"A ping pong table!" said another.

"A trampoline!"

"Badminton!"

"Whoa! A TV! Let's go watch football!"

In a moment, the horses were gone. He dimly heard a squeal that sounded like Hermione from the living room. However, it could have been Malfoy. Harry winced. "Well," said a Black Rider, already halfway up the stairs. "We'll just be up here. And don't open the door. Please." Then they were gone, too.

"Don't go in the spare roo…" Harry called ineffectually after them, and then flopped down onto the floor again. The way things were going, he wouldn't be surprised if the horses used Dudley for a birdie in badminton.

There was a shout from upstairs, and a squeal that sounded vaguely like Dudley. Then a sound of glass shattering, and a horse's yell of "Whoa, look! A birdie!" Harry winced. The doorbell rang. "Come in," said Harry weakly. Then he realized what he had just said.

"Wait! One minute! Who are-"

The door banged open, and in marched a double line. Of…girls. In the same short skirt, pleated pink and white, and wearing T-shirts that read…

"FFLOTR?" Harry read incredulously.

"Fangirls for Lord of the Rings," said one of them disparagingly. "Now, where are they? Aragorn!" she called in a singsongy voice. "Legolas!"

"No, that's not how you do it!" growled another. "You have to sneak up on them, like stalking a rabbit."

"No way. You've got to lure them out with bits of cheese and bacon as bait," protested another.

Harry left them to it and fled to the living room. Only to find the Black Horses on one couch, fighting over the remote and Hermione and Malfoy sucking face on another couch. Harry winced and turned away quickly. "Wait," he said as he looked at the other couch "Neville?" Harry squinted at the couch. He wished he had his glasses. The boy appeared to be hiding under a couch cushion. He looked…terrified. He looked terrified, Harry decided. "What are you doing under the couch cushion?"

"Shhh!" hissed Neville. "Hiding! From-"

"There you are, pookiekins," said a familiar voice from the doorway. Harry stared, gaping, at Ron. Only…he was wearing…something. It looked like a dress. Suspiciously like a dress. "Were you hiding from _me, _pookiekins? Come here, my little itsy bitsy tootsie."

Neville let out a whimper and huddled further under the cushion. Harry stared at Ron. "Um, Ron…what's the matter? Have you gone mental…or something? And is that a dress you're wearing?"

In two bounds Ron was staring at Harry, his eyes angry. "Is there something wrong with my dress? Huh? Huh? Is there something wrong with my dress, punk? And my name isn't _Ron…_it's Veronica." He sniffed, in a fair imitation of Hermione. Harry gave Ron another crosswise look.

"You're insane, Ron. You've been my best bud for ages, except for that one time when you were being a brat during the Triwizard Tournament. But anyway, you're very male, and your name is Ron. And that's Neville, Ron. _Neville._"

"Pookiekins," insisted Ron. "His name is Pookiekins. And STOP CALLING ME THAT!" he roared at Harry. Harry thought the sound force would knock him over. "MY NAME IS VERONICA, NOT THIS VULGAR…RON…YOU SPEAK OF."

Harry backed away a couple steps. "Okay, Ro – I mean, Veronica. But…Neville?"

"ARE YOU QUESTIONING MY TASTE IN MEN?" Ron roared. "I'LL SHOW YOU NEVILLE, YOU LITTLE…TAKE THAT! AND THAT!"

Ron began vigorously whacking Harry with a porcelain, cherubic statue of a…well…cherub. Harry did his best to fend off the attacks, but Ron's aim was rather off, fortunately, and he seemed to be slightly on the blind side, so Harry was able to slip out of the living room and leave Ron whacking a couch cushion, instead. Harry hoped it wasn't the one with Neville under it. He thought he understood Hermione giving up on Ron now.


	2. Munchkins

Harry looked at the kitchen before him and found a scene of absolute chaos. Professor McGonagall appeared to have dragged the trampoline inside, and, looking very drunk, seemed to be doing an interpretive dance with Scabbers' tail tied around her neck. On the trampoline. Harry winced. Hagrid and Ginny were prancing around wearing Amazonian outfits, and singing, "My Wild Irish Rose" – rather tunelessly. Ron and Neville had not emerged from the living room, which Harry took to be a bad sign. Neither had Hermione or Malfoy, though he heard some giggling from the next room. Harry took that to be a bad sign, too. The Fangirls had disappeared, though he thought he heard some distant screaming from upstairs. Harry sent up a silent prayer for the ruggedly unwashed man's soul.

Severus Snape had, for some reason, showed up, and was demonstrating the Can-Can to some curious first-years. Harry winced yet again. He decided that he seemed to be doing a lot of wincing, lately. He barely had time to wonder what the first years were doing there when the door banged open, and a pair of rhinos waltzed in, followed by three girls on horses. They didn't appear to notice Harry, and kept muttering about some "Pony Pal Trail." Harry reached behind them, dazed, to close the door, but then some people dressed in Spandex cat suits paraded in, followed by a liveried servant, some random people carrying spears and wearing black veils (Harry caught the word "Aiel" a couple of times) and some lady who kept asking about a glass slipper…the line went on and on. When he was nearly run over for the fourteenth time, somewhere in between the dancing bears and the pride of lions, Harry snapped.

"OUT!" he yelled. "ALL OF YOU, OUT!"

The party fell silent, staring at Harry in stunned disbelief. Harry glared fiercely at all of them, indiscriminately. He saw Hermione's head peeking around the corner and glared at her, too. When he had been silent for a few moments, the noise began to build up again. "NO! STOP! OUT!" Harry yelled. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! OUT OF MY NEIGHBORHOOD! I DON'T EVEN _KNOW _HALF OF YOU!" There was some grumbling and muttering of, "I have an invitation," and "Completely mental…" Harry scowled at them some more. "Come on, move it. I haven't got all day."

With some more muttering, the guests began moving toward the door, when another figure burst through, and everyone jumped back with a collective gasp of horror. For there stood…Voldemort, in all his noseless glory. Harry winced and then rounded on the wizard. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" he yelled. "IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! CAN'T I AT LEAST HAVE A LITTLE BIT OF A GOOD TIME? GET OUT NOW!"

Voldemort looked a bit taken aback. "Well, I wasn't exactly expecting a welcome, but…"

"OUT!" Harry roared. "OR I'LL SMASH THIS HOUSE TO BITS!" He raised his wand threateningly.

"Now, don't do that," said Voldemort soothingly, eying Harry's wild eyed expression slightly nervously. "I'll just…call back tomorrow. Yeah. I'll just be leaving…now…" He started to edge toward the door.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Harry growled, and waved his wand wildly, pointing it vaguely in Voldemort's direction.

Someone screamed. The house hit the ground with a thud. There was utter silence.

"What happened?" said Draco weakly. "Are you all right, Hermione?"

"I'm fine," the latter said woozily. "My head hurts, but…"

Harry pried several boards off of himself, along with a statue of a cherub. Harry scowled and rubbed at his arm, where he had no doubt several bruises would be developing. He looked around him and noticed that the landscape looked very…fake. Yes, fake was definitely the word. And…was that _singing _coming in through the doorway? Yes, it was definitely singing.

"What is that?" asked Hermione suddenly, in a very disgusted tone of voice. Considering, Harry decided that she was totally justified.

A little man had popped his head up to the window and was goggling in at them. He was wearing overalls, and a strange hat. Suddenly Harry realized where they were. "Oh no," he said, dropping his head wearily into his hands. "We've been flown to Munchkinland."

He thought that Hermione's screams were probably heard back in Kansas.


	3. Alternate Dimensions

Harry moaned and rubbed his head as the reedy sounds of the chorus of, "Ding, Dong, the Wicked Witch Is Dead," wound into the room. "I want some champagne," he complained. "Or sparkling cider, or something."

"What the hell is going on!" yelled a Black Rider, coming downstairs. We were watching the "America's Next Top Model" marathon, and then there was this big bang and the TV just…fizzled out! What is going on here?" He looked outside briefly, and his hood wiggled oddly. "And what is that?"

"They're Munchkins," said Harry wearily. "And we're in Munchkinland."

The Black Riders gave him confused looks. "Well, anyway, you'd better come upstairs. There's some piggy human screaming his head off up there, and it's quite annoying, really," said the one that seemed to be their leader.

"Oh, bollocks on Dudley," Harry said irritably. "He can wail his little head off, as far as I'm concerned." He turned on Voldemort, who shrank back fearfully. "You just get your noseless little face out of here before…before…"

"What about the Munchkins?" complained Voldemort. "There's too many for me just to _Avada Kedavra _them all."

"Well, figure out something. Just go away! The door's over there, and…oh, no." The house was suddenly spinning again.

"I knew that today wasn't going to be a good day when those fangirls started blowing kisses at us," moaned a Black Rider. There was a loud sound of retching.

When the house finally jolted to a stop, Harry looked around and saw…nothing. Absolutely nothing. "Somebody turn on a light!" he yelled. There was the sound of a switch clicking up and down. "It's not working!"

"Oh, goddammit!" Harry swore.

"Unnecessary profanity, young man!" said Ron, and something whacked Harry solidly in the head.

"I think it must be one of those weird other dimensions," said Hermione's voice.

"Oh, darling, you're so intelligent," said Draco's voice.

"Well, how do we get out of it?" complained Harry.

There was a long pause. "Um…I don't know," Hermione admitted.

"Well, that's no good, is it!" moaned Harry.

"Break out the champagne!" yelled Professor McGonagall drunkenly.

Harry moaned again. "Shut up, all of you! I need to think!" There was silence, punctuated by a few titters. Suddenly he saw a glint of golden hair bouncing in.

"Are you quite done with all this crashing around? It's messing up my hair, and one of the dwarves has been sick on the carpet. It's very unpleasant." Said the elf in an annoyed voice.

One of the fangirls pounced out of the darkness with a cry of "Legolasie!" Legolas's scream was cut off in a very sticky sounding kiss. Harry winced. The noise was slowly building up again, but with cries of pain as everybody stepped on everybody else's toes. Harry thought he heard an _Avada- _cut off by a shriek from Dudley that sounded suspiciously pig like.

He scowled vaguely at the darkness and tried to shut out the noise. Unfortunately, Ginny had suddenly appeared and was trying to kiss him, very insistently. Harry continually had to pry her hands off of his shoulders. Finally, she gave up on stealth and pounced on Harry, viciously biting at his ear and clenching her nails into his skin. Harry gave up on trying to get her off.

Finally, Ron pried her off with an umbrella stand, then promptly started whacking him with it. Harry yelled in pain and raised his wand.

Ron promptly swiped it out of Harry's hand. "Now, that's dangerous, young man! No playing with sticks in the house! Like this, you see! Swish and fli-"

"No!" yelled Harry, but it was too late. The house was spinning again. Harry heard the sounds of splattering on the kitchen floor, then, "Whoops, there goes my wine!" from Hagrid. He winced.

They hit ground. Harry raised his head warily. He moaned again as he saw Ron holding Harry's wand, snapped in half. "Well, would you look at that," Ron said bemusedly. "It does break when you bend it, after all!" Harry winced.

Harry looked out of the window, and saw the familiar gardens of Privet Drive. He sighed with relief. "Well," he said wearily. "I'm glad that's over. Now you can all go home. All of you!"

There was no response from the already partying guests.

"Did you hear me?" asked Harry, almost shouting. "I said, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

"Someone throw out that party pooper," complained Scabbers.

"Wait!" yelled Harry as two rhinos picked him up bodily and swung him back and forth, counting, "One, two…" "This is my house! Don't-"

"THREE!" There was a sound of crashing glass, but the noise did not lull. Harry dragged himself up from the concrete, scowling at the house.

"SCREW ALL Y'ALL!" he yelled at the house before turning to look down the street. "Now what?" He glanced at the house, and winced.

The party continued, and the stream of guests continued to arrive. Voldemort was very drunk and was currently teaching some second years how to pull a rabid rabbit out of a car engine. Professor McGonagall was performing karaoke on the roof, seemingly unaware that her bathing suit had come untied. Harry winced and quickly looked away. The music got louder, the screaming rose in volume, and Harry scowled viciously before Disapparating. Nothing changed about the house. Except that now it was hovering about ten feet in the air.

Later, rumors placed the famous Harry Potter as working in Czechoslovakia as a fishmonger, under the pseudonym Georgina Fredrichs. All evidence about the whereabouts of the party indicates that it hasn't stopped yet. Fortunately, word hasn't reached Czechoslovakia.


End file.
